


Strength

by teacupdrop



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupdrop/pseuds/teacupdrop
Summary: Lyn ponders on romance and what exactly that means in Lycia.





	Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's recently replaying FE7 and is back into her ol' belligerent OTP. This is a little less fluffy than I anticipated so it's really more like a practice in characterization. Oh well, anything to populate the Lyn/Hector tag.

Romance was a luxury in the Sacaean plains but that did not mean Lyn was completely oblivious to the poetry of hearts. Her people were especially good at spinning tales by campfire. The ideal time was when it was too dark to forage or hunt but light enough that the setting sun colored everyone's faces in such a way that even the most familiar person seemed to have an otherworldly quality about them.

Many would recount tales of steadfast love; Lyn's favorite was that of a lover who, seeing his other half's horse suddenly fall ill, took the physical burden left by the beast lest it weighed on his beloved.

It was the kind of strength desired in any bond, and to a Sacaean, it would be _required_ for any budding romance.

So to Lyn's confusion, what was considered romance in Lycia was quite... different. She went to check on her favorite supporter, and Lyn found Florina in the healer’s tent. Lyn still couldn’t quite believe that the shy pegasus knight made such good friends with someone like Serra, but she supposed it was for the best for both of them.

The moment Lyn entered, she heard a shrill shriek.

"Oh, _Priscilla!_ Erk got you _flowers_?" Serra said with an exaggerated pout, “I wish he were half as gentlemanly when I hired him as _my_ bodyguard!”

Priscilla was busy setting the bundle of wildflowers aside in a vase next to their staves. “Oh s-shush! It was only as thanks for my quick thinking the other day.”

Florina quietly added, “I-It’s true… Erk got a little too close to a knight and Priscilla b-barely got him away in time…”

“Flowers? A little dainty for a battlefield, isn’t it?” Lyn finally spoke up. Why flowers? Lyn did enjoy the dried sort to decorate and purify her room every now and then but that wasn't the epitome of romance surely.

"Oh, Lady Lyndis!" sang Serra, her pigtails bouncing with her every word. "That's exactly why it's so nice. The smell of grime and blood can't follow a lady all the time you know."

“I… guess not.” Lyn looked on as Priscilla, despite her own comment, was neatly rearranging the flowers so they would not wilt as quickly.

“ _Ah_!” Serra continued on, dramatically feigning a ladylike drop on Florina’s shoulder. “Are there no good men left in this army? I know it’s war, but it would be nice to be pampered a little! A bit of perfume or chocolates would be _so_ lovely...”

Florina smiled weakly as she helped prop Serra. “F-Fiora always did say that romance had no place when you’re a soldier…”

“That’s because your sister is so…!” protested the cleric, “She wouldn’t know what romance is even if it hit her in the face!”

Lyn nodded. “Fiora can be a little severe, but I don’t disagree with her.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Priscilla, still carefully arranging. “You might be surprised. Fiora doesn't seem to object to being courted.”

“ _Whaaat._  Wait, are you saying that Fiora actually has…” Serra’s eyes widened in scandal. “A _beau?_ ”

“A _b-b-b-_ ” Color rushed into Florina’s cheeks, and she could barely articulate anything in shock. Lyn would have grabbed her if Serra hadn’t already clung onto her.

“ _Florina!_ ” cried the cleric as she dug her face into the youngest pegasus knight’s chest. “If your _sister_ can find romance, what is to be done with me?!”

“... Is that true, Priscilla?” Lyn asked as she went closer to watch the troubadour work.

Priscilla smiled kindly before she gave the Lady of Caelin the small pickings of blue flowers around the base of the vase. “I might have been away from Ostia for while, but it works the same here as in Etruria. It’s unmistakable when someone has fallen in love, don’t you think, milady?”

Was it? Lyn eyed the tiny bundle as she twirled it around between her fingers. She couldn’t immediately think of any Lycian practices she would consider truly ‘romantic’. Giving each other trinkets didn’t exactly bring ‘steadfastness’ to mind.

Lyn thought nothing more of it until that evening's sparring session with none other than who some would consider the least romantic person in the army.

Hector, of course.

They had been sparring regularly enough they they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses as well as their own. So when Hector's axe slid off the back of her sword unexpectedly and he winced, Lyn knew immediately something was wrong. 

She quickly abandoned her offensive stance and sheathed her sword as she pointedly asked, "Stop. Hector, you didn't stretch did you?"

"... Huh?" He left his hand to rest on top of the axe handle, pretending that nothing was amiss. " _This_ is my warm up. A few more swings and I'll be stretched enough."

As if that would convince her."You can be so careless... Give me your hand. That isn't the hand that had beaten me so soundly when I first sparred with you."

"Hah!” his laugh boomed. “I'm glad for your concern but I thought you'd get used to it by now." Even as he said so, he dropped the axe and outstretched his hand. He knew better than to protest when the girl of the plains took that tone.

By instinct, Lyn took his hand rather brusquely and the forward momentum made the Ostian noble almost trip. Lyn's strength of her sword arm never failed her after all. After prying off his glove, the problem revealed itself. A patch of clammy redness was spreading from the base of his thumb to the rest of his palm, causing the rest of his fingers to clamp. She began to knead the spot, muttering, "Rashness does not make a warrior, Hector."

"Hey, just because I never got real training doesn't mean I can't be effective as a general."

At that, Lyn pressed hard enough that Hector flinched once more with a _Yowch!_ Primly, she replied, "Being a general and being a fighter who can take care of himself are different things."

"Fine, fine..." he grumbled. But as he felt his hand loosen, the knot of muscle and tendons concentrated on his hand unraveling, he seemed more agreeable. More politely, he asked, "... Did you learn to do this all by yourself?"

"By myself...? No, in the plains everyone took care of each other. Even the most practiced and hardened hunter got hurt after all." Her hands stopped as she thought of the times she took care of her fellow tribesmen and they her in return. Times that would never return.

Hector kept quiet after that. Lyn recalled his clumsy attempt to support her when she spoke of the loss of her people and was glad he at least had the tact to be silent now.

He only broke the silence as he said, "... Thanks. It’s as good as new."

"Don't get so cocky. Imagine if your hand sprains in the middle of battle."

With a grunt, he immediately began weighing his axe between his hands before starting to strap his glove back on. “I know this axe as well as the back of my hand. It won't fail me.”

“Hector…” Lyn stopped herself short of admonishing him even more. She had said her fill before. “Just be careful.”

“You worry too much, Lyn. What brings this about?”

The question elicited mixed emotion in her heart, and it was suddenly hard to speak when they caught at her throat. How could he be so surprised at her concern even after all they had experienced…? She replied, a bit stony, “... Both of us have to be strong for Eliwood. We can't fail him when there's so much at stake.”

“Hmm,” Hector mumbled, ever so obliviously, “I can't disagree with that.”

“Then please try to be a little bit more reliable. I know your strength but I have to trust it.”

“Well,” he started with his infuriatingly confident, devil-may-care grin. “That just means you'll have to fight me until you know you can rely on me, right? Ready for round two?”

There was something in his words that sent blood rushing throughout her body. It was something different from the rush she felt before entering battle—but she gripped the hilt of her sword all the same with a smile. "I thought you said you were warming up, Hector?"

He took an ever familiar defensive stance as he paced back, giving themselves ample space to join metal and mind. "My hand's plenty warmed up thanks to you. Here I go!"

 

* * *

 

After the sound of singing metal died down, the only thing that disturbed the stillness of the fields was a faint breeze and the panting of two worn fighters. The two rested under the shade of a tree, dropping their weapons on the grass as they caught their breaths.

As the heat of sparring cooled, Hector could finally say between the heavings of his chest, “You’ve gotten better.”

“But I still can’t win against you.” Lyn half-expected him to make another brazen statement but instead, he chose to surprise her.

"Before you go, give me your hand."

"Huh?" Another rush made the swordswoman’s fingers fumble, and she almost dropped the sheath.

Hector went on, "You said your people took care of each other. I want to return the favor.”

“Well I- but you’re not-” Lyn started, but without even thinking, her hand gravitated towards the man anyway. Hector took it gently on his own as he emulated her gestures from before. His calloused hands felt rough against hers, and Lyn expected him to be too boorish and bumbling but... there was surprising self-restraint, and she could feel the pressure of her joints melt away.

Mesmerized, she snapped to look up when Hector spoke again, “Surprised I can be useful?”

“You're not... terrible at this...” She looked away, pretending to be too distracted by the swaying of the grass until she felt the heavy, pointed pressure on her palms lift away. When she looked up again, Hector was just _staring_ at her.

His hand did not completely depart from hers even after it long should have, and his fingers slid down lightly to her wrist. The path they took on her skin seemed to burn, and it was such a small gesture really—but Lyn felt herself stir again, in such an unfamiliar way that made her shudder. Why--?

Before she could take away her hand to maintain some semblance of propriety, he uttered, "I don't mean to make you worry. I just... Do what I do."

And she let their touch linger, to let his words settle. Finally, they both let go and she sighed, "I... know. I can't fault you for that forever. It's just... I don’t think I’ll be able to bear losing more people after what happened to my tribe."

"Is that it? Well, you won't. I won't let it happen."

At that, she smiled. "There you go again, saying such things without hesitation!"

"What else would I do?” he asked quite seriously. “Let you, Eliwood, all of the Lycian League down? You're not alone in this, Lyn."

“... Of course not.” Even under the shade of tree, the heat and redness from worn muscles and a pumping heart would not go away. She had so much more to say, but all she could find herself doing was holding her hand with the other, as if to rub away the remaining burns on her wrist.

Just as she was about to say something, he passed by and dropped something into her hands. “Oh and… You dropped this from your sash. It must be from someone pretty important to keep it so close to you.”

It was the blue flowers, just lightly pressed. Lyn’s mind went white, knowing what the senseless Ostian was thinking. She wanted to shout, protest, _That’s not how it is in Sacaea!_ Or even _These brightly colored pieces of grass don’t mean anything!_ Or more urgently, _Why do I even care for your opinion?!_

But all she could manage was a choked, “That’s not—”

“Nah, I get it. I’m not surprised. Lucky guy. You... have more than just strength, you know.” He was already a pace away towards the main camp, and while Lyn couldn’t see him, Hector sounded different right then. Almost older, more careful and considerate than she thought he could ever be.

Fool. Idiot. Brute! Ergh, he had the strength to spar with her every day and to lead the armies every day, but he had no sense to look at her when he said things like that! His words left her redfaced, and Lyn realized that perhaps Lycians did have some idea of romance underneath it all.


End file.
